


#cutebaristadoodles

by electricjuicebox



Series: #cutebaristadoodles 'verse [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Crush, Barista John Laurens, Fluff and tropes and obliviousness - oh my!, Instagram, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricjuicebox/pseuds/electricjuicebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton is confident about his abilities in many things, and romance is usually one of them. Not this time. Instead he’s coping with an embarrassing crush on J, the cute barista who smiles at him and puts little drawings on his coffee cups.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sons Of Libertea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052915) by [fihli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fihli/pseuds/fihli). 



> This is inspired by fihli’s wonderful fic Sons of Libertea (go check it out if you're not already reading it!), where John draws little pictures on all the coffee cups. And then I got carried away imagining a kind of pathetic Instagram love letter from Alex to the barista he’s infatuated with, and this happened.

It starts with a takeaway cup of black coffee. 

Realistically, Alex doesn't have the financial means to support a caffeine habit on the go. He should be brewing individual cups of instant coffee in travel mugs and toting them around campus all day in order to save money. Living in New York, even if he’s not in the city centre, is far from cheap. But a long-standing caffeine addiction and a taste, however irresponsible, for some of life’s finer things lead him into The Federalist several times a week. 

(Truthfully, the quiet, freckled barista who works mornings doesn't hurt either.) 

The Federalist is an independent coffee shop a short walk from campus. There isn't really much that distinguishes it from the many others in the area, but the student body is apparently thirsty enough to keep them all in business. After all, caffeine is a powerful motivator. The coffeeshop has an eclectic interior decorated with a mixture of 20th century propaganda posters and 18th century portraits of influential politicians. It's kind of cute, kind of quirky, but still approachable. They make pastries and sandwiches, they make a variety of drinks, they play quiet indie music over the speakers. It’s nice. It's cozy. 

Alex first came for the coffee, but - if he's being totally honest - returned for a certain gorgeous barista.  


This guy is pretty, okay? He’s slim and compact, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist that’s only accentuated by the red apron he wears while working. It looks good on him, but probably anything would look good on him. Probably nothing would look even better, but Alex is trying not to be a creep. 

His hair is always tied up under a baseball cap, but Alex is sure it’s glorious. It’s curly and from what he’s seen, looks very soft. He has the cutest ears that stick out a little, especially when he wears a cap, and has a couple of shiny silver studs along the rim of one ear. Not that Alex has noticed, or fixated on them, or anything weird like that. He wore a hairnet once, curls tucked up under it, and looked absolutely ridiculous. Alex swooned anyway. He has broad hands that Alex can’t help but notice as J takes his money or hands him a warm cup of coffee. There’s something unique about his good looks. 

So Alex, who is technically a grown-ass man, definitely has a silly schoolboy crush. What’s worse is that Alex doesn’t even know the guy’s name. He wears a name tag pinned to his red apron, but it just says J. The rest of the letters are obscured by a turtle-shaped sticker. 

The Federalist quickly becomes a part of Alex’s normal university routine. Some days he shows up with friends, some days he comes alone, some days he makes coffee at home to save money, but on the days he visits the cafe he keeps an eye out for J. Alex always tries not to stare as he stands in a long line of fidgeting students awaiting their fix. He always stares anyway. 

Instead of writing Alex’s name on the cup, J always scribbles a small drawing on it before making the drink. The first one was a little hand giving a thumbs-up. On various days Alex has received a stylized sun wearing aviator sunglasses, a number of turtles, several different fish, a little hamburger, a squirrel… He might be going through the emoji keyboard at random, actually, and drawing inspiration for his simple little drawings. Alex is pretty sure he’s seen J do it for other customers, so it’s not like he’s _special_ or anything. But it does make him feel special. 

He also can’t seem to get rid of any of the coffee cups J’s drawn on. They’re too adorable. Instead, he totes them around campus all day and leaves them lined up in his small apartment, putting them on display in their living room.  


Come to think of it, he’s definitely in too deep.  


Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time ever posting a work here, so I'd love to know what you think, but I'd also like you to be gentle. That being said, let me know if you spot anything that looks off! I'm still trying to work out how the formatting works.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex’s long-suffering friends bear the brunt of his friendship in many ways, not the least of which being the fallout from his ridiculous crush. Hercules, who he shares a small apartment with, is the first to snap. 

**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> Alex  
> While I appreciate your newfound interest in “modern art”  
> I will not have you turning my apartment into a TRASH SHRINE  
**A. Ham:**  
> Thats a lil uncharitable, dont you think?  
**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> Your texting is embarrassing.  
> Would you like me to remind you whose name is on the lease?  
**A. Ham:**  
> we both signed that lease. my name’s on there. I have a copy.  
**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> Who pays the rent?  
**A. Ham:**  
> BOTH OF US  
**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> Who owns the place???  
**A. Ham:**  
> dont play  
> we both know that your uncle does  
> you cant take credit for the good fortune of having a local, property-owning relative, that’s unfair  
**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> My god  
> You never know how to let things go, do you?  
> Arguing with you is like smacking my head repeatedly into a tiny wall.  
**A. Ham:**  
> *kissy face emoji*  
**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> *middle finger emoji* 

 

It’s a Tuesday afternoon and Alex has finished his classes for the day. He spends some time working in the library, watches a bunch of funny video compilations on Youtube, eats the lunch he packed that morning, and then gathers up his things to head home. 

Or… He really could use a coffee. There is the option of brewing it back at the apartment, but it would certainly taste better if he stopped by a cafe. He tries to convince himself that quality coffee is the only reason he turns away from his normal route home as he leaves campus, and fails. He isn't fooled, but he has decided on a course of action. Cafe it is. 

Alex strolls down the street, appreciating the cool air and the sunshine reflecting down along the glass-walled skyscrapers to light the sidewalk. The walk is pleasant and not crowded with people today, he gets every green light along the way, and he reaches The Federalist quickly. 

A tangle of nerves begins to build in his gut as he pushes open one of the heavy glass doors and joins the end of the line that always seems to snake back towards the entrance. He can't put his finger on the music filtering softly through the speakers, but it's bouncy and upbeat and does nothing to quell his growing anxiety. It's a little later in the day than Alex’s usual visits, so maybe his worry is for nothing… 

Nope. There he is, behind the counter taking orders and making drinks. There's another guy back there too, lounging against a counter and seemingly oblivious to the line of customers. J’s ball cap is turned backwards today. His apron is stained with coffee, and he has a dishcloth tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

He looks harried, racing around to prepare drinks as the new guy watches nervously. New Guy clearly has no idea what's going on, and it would be comical if some of the people in line weren’t getting restless. J and the other guy exchange words that Alex can't catch, and when New Guy shakes his head Alex watches J school his expression from frustrated to calm in a way that seems practiced and efficient. That would be a nice skill to have, but Alex practically seems destined to wear his heart on his sleeve. 

Alex eventually reaches the front of the line and J approaches the counter. A small curl has slipped from under the brim of the cap and sticks up on his forehead. 

“Sorry, we're running a bit slow today. Training a new employee. What can I get you?” He smiles and Alex is dazzled. What is it that he wants, again? _Crap, this is bad. Get a coffee. Right._

“Hi. That's fine, honestly. May I have an extra large black coffee, please? Medium roast.” 

“Sure thing. I'll grab that for you, I don't think Charles has mastered the coffeepot yet.” Charles doesn't look too interested in mastering the coffeepot. He looks kind of panicked, actually. “There you go.” Alex passes J a handful of coins and waves away the proffered change. He also manages a proper, polite smile. It feels like more of a triumph than it should. 

“Thank you. Uh, good luck with the new guy!” Alex throws over his shoulder as he turns to leave. He hears a snort of laughter behind him as J calls back a wry “Thanks.” Alex winces. Was that too weird? No. He’s just being polite, which is a _totally normal thing to do_. He hears a muffled _“Lee, if you think this is bad, wait until the Friday morning rush. You're just gonna have to get used to it,”_ as he leaves. Poor guy has no idea what he's doing. 

Alex fights a growing sense of anticipation replacing the bundle of nerves inside of him as he walks back up the street, but he can't resist for long. Alex turns the cup around in his hands to find… a smiling narwhal. Okay, seriously, this isn’t fair. It’s so cute. _One more for the Trash Shrine, I guess,_ he thinks to himself. Herc will not be pleased. 

 

When Alex steps into the apartment a little later, coffee clutched sheepishly in hand, his roommate fixes him with a glare from the couch where he’s sitting. The cups Alex has accumulated seem to loom judgmentally from their place lined up on top of the bookcase, the television and speaker system. Maybe he does have a bit of a problem. Alex clears his throat and gestures towards his collection. 

“Hercules, would you like me to get rid of these?” Herc snorts. 

“Yes. And I would like you to stop bringing home new ones, too.” With a pointed look at the cup in Alex’s hand. “How am I supposed to impress guests if we look like we're auditioning for Hoarders?” 

“You only had to ask,” Alex singsongs, winking. Poor Herc lets out a grunt of frustration.

 _“If only._ Take some damn pictures if you insist, but no more mouldy paper cups. Honestly, it's disgusting.” 

“Got it. Trash shrine’s gotta go.” 

“Show your creepy devotion to this guy some other way, Hamilton.” 

It’s definitely a fair point. He doesn't want to lose the drawings, though, so Alex spends more time than is strictly necessary that afternoon snapping the clearest picture he can of each cup’s illustrations on his phone before stacking them and tossing them in the garbage. It’s nice to have the little drawings accessible whenever he wants to see them. Scrolling through his photo gallery makes him smile now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing myself into a bit of a tricky situation because this fic's entire premise is based on Alex being sort of OOC. He's all action, and this story is based largely on his inaction. It would be more realistic to have him handle the situation immediately... and yet, here we are! I'm trying to keep it as believable as I can.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

“Hamsterdance, we seriously need to talk about something else. I stopped listening two arguments ago.” 

Alex and Peggy Schuyler are slumped against a wall in the humanities building. Alex has a lunch date with Eliza for pho, and her little sister invited herself along, but Eliza’s still in class for twenty five more minutes and they’re running out of ways to entertain themselves while they wait for her. He doesn’t even know Peggy that well, but apparently they’re on whatever level of friendship allows the use of awful nicknames. Honestly, Alex doesn’t mind. He’s happy to have any friends at all. He’s been explaining his latest opinion piece in the school newspaper to a distracted Peggy, who in turn has been testing out every single Snapchat filter on them both as he speaks. Apparently that was a mistake. 

“Sure, sure, sorry.” He appreciates her blunt honesty, even if he does pout a little. “What would you rather do?” 

Peggy contemplates for a moment before snatching his phone from his lap and clutching it to her chest. She flashes him a wicked grin and unlocks it with a calculated swipe. Alex protests halfheartedly, but he doesn’t really care. What’s she going to do, purposefully lose his trivia match against Aaron? Wait, he needs his phone back. 

“Margarita Schuyler, you give that-”

“No. Let’s check out your camera roll, what do we have here? No naked photos, I- oh god! No! My young, virgin eyes!” She claps a hand over her face and flings her head back dramatically. 

“Come on. That’s just a selfie. I’m fully clothed,” he points out. 

“You expect to get any interest on Tinder with that picture? Are you making a peace sign? That’s so lame, Alex.” 

“No one said anything about Tinder,” he mumbles, but she’s moved on. 

“Oh! Are these Jerry’s coffee drawings? Eliza told me about him!” She coos as she scrolls through all the pictures Alex has painstakingly preserved. He’s torn between embarrassment about his infatuation and a small sense of cheer that J’s little drawings are bringing a small happiness to someone else. “These are better than I expected! Julio seems like quite an artist.” 

“Julio? How do you know his name is Julio?”

“Oh, I don’t. I’m just running through J names. Oh my god, you know what would be cute? You should put these on Instagram!” Her entire face lights up for a moment and Alex immediately understands how she gets her sisters to bend to her will. She's crafty. 

“I don’t even _have_ Instagram. Why would I do that?”

“It would be fun! You could stop boring everyone with poetry about Jacob’s eyes and just say it with emojis or something. You could create a hashtag,” Peggy offers as if that should somehow convince him. She flashes him a calculating smile and begins to download the app on his phone. Alex ponders the situation as it downloads. If some part of the world were to share in his silly, private joy that people like J exist, that wouldn’t be a bad thing. It might be nice. 

“Yeah, okay.” She cheers and hands him the phone, _Sign Up_ page looming brightly on the screen. Alex sighs and begins to type just as Eliza emerges from her classroom and makes a beeline for them, waving brightly. 

He broaches the subject to her as they walk to lunch, since Peggy is lagging behind taking pictures of every dog they pass on the street.  
“Eliza, how am I ever going to ask this guy out? I can't be That Weirdo who hits on him during work and creeps him out. He gets paid to be polite to people and I _won't exploit that in lieu of actual interest_!” Eliza, in her infinite patience, doesn’t roll her eyes or complain. She listens and takes a few seconds to consider his problem.  
“I don't know. Does he go to school here?” Alex doesn’t have a clue, actually. “You need to run into him organically, then. Find a real opportunity to talk.” It’s a stupidly obvious plan, really. What was he thinking? 

He surprises himself by not mentioning J again during lunch. Eliza and Peggy don’t mention it, but they’re grateful. 

After a delicious meal and some time spent window shopping with the Schuyler sisters, Alex gets home and finally has a chance to finish creating the account. He calls it _cutebaristadoodles_ because he is hopeless. Over the next several days, he posts every illustration he’s ever taken a picture of. No distracting filters, but he subtly edits them for high contrast and low saturation so the thick, felt-tipped lines pop in their square frames. Peggy was right. Instagram _is_ fun. Of course, Alex has trouble being private about anything, so he shares it with his friends at school. 

**Eliza S:**  
> cute!!! Peggy told me all about it. :)

 **Angelica Schuyler:**  
> is this that guy you keep whining about?  
> I like the cat holding a little coffee mug, that’s sickeningly adorable.

 **Hercules Mulligan:**  
> ;|  
> Sure beats a trash shrine little bro 

**Aaron Burr:**  
> Really, Hamilton? 

**Pegs:**  
> YUSSSSSSSSSSSS  
> I liked and commented on all of them  
> follow me back  
> *thumbs up emoji* 

Alex sees cutebaristadoodles kind of as a sort of understated celebration of tiny art. The pictures stand alone and make their own statement. Then, he starts to caption a few of them with relevant emojis. He had no idea social media could be this fun without writing paragraphs of text. How did he not know? 

Most of his friends follow the page. Almost all of them have heard about his crush by now anyway, because he is incapable of ever shutting up. Once he caves and begins to add a hashtag or two on each picture, to his surprise a few people he doesn’t even know begin to follow the account. It becomes a fun way to kill time, but Alex doesn’t think too much of it. Over the course of a handful of visits to the Federalist over several weeks (Alex is still jobless and trying to save money), his little cache of pictures grows.

 

“Have you considered that non-consensually posting these pictures might be a breach of this man's privacy?” Burr asks skeptically one day. Aaron had been Alex's student mentor in his first year, and Alex had sort of bullied him into friendship, wearing him down until they started to meet up regularly to study or hang out. He’s never actually sure if Burr likes to spend time with him or just does it for the sake of having something to do, but they’re well-matched academically and tend to be productive during their little study sessions. It's mutually beneficial, but Aaron does tend to get on Alex's nerves, and vice versa. 

“I doubt he’ll ever find out,” Alex snaps, feeling defensive. “And it’s not malicious, I’m posting from a place of admiration. It’s pretty harmless.” He’s talking faster now, words clipped, back straight, palms flat on the table in front of him, feeling attacked. “I’d give credit if I knew him! _Of course!_ But I don’t. Burr, you need to chill.” Aaron’s eyebrows are raised comically high at Alex’s barrage of words, but he didn’t look offended or surprised. This kind of thing isn't unprecedented. Maintaining their friendship is often a struggle. It isn’t the first time he’s provoked Alex, but Alex can tell that the other man is suspicious about his strangely touchy reaction to this topic. 

“ _I_ need to chill? Sure, Alex. Whatever gets you to sleep at night. But I still think this is a mistake. Just... be careful.” 

Neither person is placated. 

 

Eventually, Alex’s verbose nature takes over and he begins to ramble on for a line or two on each caption about J's pretty eyes, hands, freckles, forearms… in hindsight, it _is_ inappropriate, but he isn't about to listen to Aaron’s criticism. Really, who cares about a couple of photos on social media? Guy needs to learn to live a little, and Alex will _not_ admit that he might be right. But he begins to feel a small, niggling twinge of guilt every time someone likes one of his photos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My ridiculous title makes sense now! I'll admit, I couldn't think of anything better that was actually related to the story.


	4. Chapter 4

Hercules Mulligan is excellent at keeping secrets. For example, his roommate has no idea that he and John Laurens are actually friends. They met during a free breakfast on campus the previous semester (Herc had invited Alex, who slept through the entire thing. Clearly his loss) and later joined the same intramural fencing league. Neither of them continued with fencing, but they kept in contact. He could have told Alex about him as soon as he realized that the mythical ‘J’ was the same John Laurens who loved buffalo wings and slam poetry. He was going to. After Alex started this Instagram bullshit, though, Herc realized that it would be much more entertaining to watch the debacle unfold without interfering. So, he still hasn’t told Alex the whole truth. 

As much as Alex is completely over-the-top, he’s also a great friend and Herc really does want him to be happy. If Alex can figure out a way to get over this middle school infatuation he's got going on and act like a real person again, Herc thinks he and John might have great chemistry. For now, though, he'll observe the drama and not bother to bring Laurens into this until it any kind of relationship has a chance at stability. 

Herc is also excellent at strategic meddling. Maybe he _should_ try to set them up sometime. That might be fun.

“Oh my god, what if he’s not even into guys?” Alex wails from the living room. Herc pokes his head out of the kitchen and brandishes a pair of tongs in his direction. He takes a moment to ponder the idea that telling Alex who John is might end this specific brand of roommate-driven misery. He’s is a little more tempted to do that whenever Alex pulls stunts like this, but he hasn’t snapped yet. 

“He’s into guys,” Herc says confidently. Alex pokes his head up from where he’d been lying on the couch and turns to face him, eyes large. 

“What do you mean? How do you know?” Herc backtracks, confident in his ability to lie smoothly. He should have expected the intensity of Alex’s reaction. The kid doesn’t half-ass anything, he’ll give him that. 

“I’ve been to that cafe before, I know who you’re talking about. And he’s definitely gay.” The first part is a lie, he’s never been there, but he’s pretty certain about the second part. John has never defined his sexuality outright, but he’s mentioned dates with guys before. Well, if Alex never works up the nerve to strike up a real conversation with him, he’ll never know either. 

“Being a fashion student doesn’t give you impeccable gay-dar.” Honest to god, Alex is pointing an accusatory finger at him over the back of the couch and squinting. 

“I’m pretty sure, man. Trust me.” 

Alex grunts noncommittally, apparently pacified, and turns back to his laptop where he’s several hours deep into a Netflix marathon of some kind. Hercules wonders why he doesn't have any normal friends. 

 

J has a bandage tightly wound around his left palm today, and his cap matches his apron. He smiles when Alex walks up to the counter. The cafe smells more strongly than usual of coffee, and the music floating through the air is something soft and tranquil. It isn't as busy as it is earlier in the morning, but several groups of students cluster around some of the tables by the window.  


“Hey there, how are you doing?” _Is that a generic greeting, or a ‘hey cutie, you seem to come here often’ greeting?_  


“Are you okay?” Alex asks immediately, gesturing towards his hand. “Sorry. I mean, fine.” Fuck. His shoulders tense up in embarrassment. He needs to learn to watch his mouth. Fortunately, J doesn't seem bothered by the question. He flexes his fingers and drums them against the countertop a few times.  


“I am. Just the trials of teaching the new hire to pull decent espresso shots. I like to think of it as a battle scar.” J chuckles and cocks his head to one side. “Hey, you want a free -” he grabs a cup Alex hadn’t noticed and checks the scribbled notes on the side. “Hazelnut latte? I messed up and used 2% instead of fat free so I couldn't sell it. It should still be nice and hot.” _I bet it's hot_ , Alex thinks. He meets J’s warm, brown eyes.  


“Yeah! Free drink, thanks, I would love that. First time for everything, right?” Alex shoves a couple of dollar bills into the tip jar anyway and bites his lip. _Play it cool, Hamilton._ J’s eyes widen in excitement.  


“First latte? Really? Oh man, you're gonna love it! This is good stuff.” J picks up a pen with his right hand and clumsily draws several exclamation marks on the cup. “There. Best I can do under the circumstances. Have a good day, alright?” 

It’s the perfect drinking temperature, and it's absolutely delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is historical evidence for Laurens' right-handedness... but I found a conversation on tumblr (from user john-laurens, maybe?) that suggested him being left-handed but, as was common at the time, forced to use his right hand instead. So, he’s a lefty here.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

“...I’m not sure if he’s taller than me, though,” Alex mused. “He’s always behind that counter and the floor may well be raised, or have thick mats for support, or-”

“ _You need to stop._ ”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I talking too loud?”

“I’m not my sister, Alexander. Eliza may have the patience of a saint to listen to you drone on about your barista all day, but I can only handle so much of it. At some point, you need to get a grip.”

“He isn’t _my_ barista. However, that's the plan. I don’t have a plan yet... I need a plan. I-” Angelica sighs. They’re just about to part ways and head to class, and Alex had been rambling without realizing it. She's the type of person to call him out on it, and she is doing just that. He knows he deserves it. “Sorry. Really. I’m getting carried away.”

“Be careful, Alexander. You’re falling in love with this perfect boy you’ve constructed. Real people will never live up to your imagination.” She fixes him with an intense stare and Alex immediately feels a twinge of guilt. But he can’t agree with her, of course, and instead shoots her a fake smile. 

“You don’t need to worry about me, Angelica, I can handle myself. You sound like Aaron... Preaching what I might call unnecessary amounts of caution.” To be honest, Alex isn't entirely sure that he can handle himself in this situation, but he has a lot of practice at flying by the seat of his pants and coming out relatively unscathed. This is no different. He's confident in his ability to figure shit out as he goes.

“I’m just worried that you’ll never be satisfied.” Angelica pauses, still staring at him. “I gotta go.” She slings her book bag over her shoulder and strides away without looking back. 

 

Contrary to what may be popular belief, Alex is somewhat self-aware. He knows that he has a “strong personality” and that he often allows himself to be carried away with fixations and obsessions and problems that need solving. He knows that he can be hard to deal with sometimes... or often. His personality evokes decisive results, with some people abandoning him at the earliest opportunity, and others quickly becoming friends.

His romantic history is less than impressive. He and Eliza had shared a few disastrous dates in his first year at school and they’d both been relieved when their awkward attempts at dating had settled into a close friendship. She’s too good for him, anyway, he muses. Since her, he’s nursed a handful of dead-end crushes, but he’s never actually pursued the objects of his affection. J feels different, but Angelica is right. He doesn’t know anything about the other man. What does he even have to base a monumental crush off of? A collection of doodles and the memory of a thrilling smile?

This was never meant to be a Thing, but he’s definitely let this infatuation get away from him. Hopefully, J is the kind of person who will find his quirks bearable. Hopefully he doesn’t find Alex grating and annoying. All Alex can do is hope, really. Speaking of hoping, he hopes that he actually gets to know J one day instead of admiring him from across a counter.

Well, it’s disheartening when he thinks about it like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly just supposed to be a little fic about the Instagram thing, but it's sort of gotten off topic - Oh well!  
> Also, I can't promise that Alex will stop moping over this crush any time soon. I'm being indulgent (sorry!).
> 
> Again, thank you for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that I've hesitantly planned out four more chapters after this one, but I don't have everything written yet so I make no promises as to regular updates. I will try, though.

Alex is sitting alone at a booth in the university’s student pub early one evening. He’d been studying with Aaron, who had abandoned him twenty minutes earlier to go to some kind of suspicious secret meeting. Alex hadn’t been able to draw any details from him, but suspects it’s that secret girlfriend Burr pretends no one knows about. He feels kind of sorry for the guy. Being the other man can’t be easy. He’s finishing off the last of the pitcher they’d been sharing before he heads home for the evening. His glass of beer and the notes he’s been working on for a debate in his American History class are spread out on the table in front of him. He’s feeling relaxed, comfortably buzzed, and the words are flowing fluidly through his brain to the page. 

Alex is too absorbed in his work to pay much attention to the world around him, which is why he’s failed to notice the Student Justice Center setting up for a small event at the bar’s tiny stage. A tiny audience is gathered in hastily assembled plastic chairs, listening to someone speaking onstage and nodding along. As Alex pauses his writing to consider a specific word choice, he scans the bar, takes notice of the speaker, and freezes. 

It’s J. _Holy shit._

J is standing on the tiny stage, giving some kind of presentation to the assembled students. He has to angle his head upwards a little bit to reach the microphone that nobody had bothered to adjust for him (and his throat is more distracting than it should be, all things considered). Despite the necessary awkwardness of his stance, though, J seems to have command of himself in front of his small audience. He’s bouncing rhythmically on the balls of his feet and gesticulating in time with his words. Alex has only ever seen his hair tied back, but today it hangs around his face in a thick mass of curls. J is wearing worn black jeans and a leather jacket over a _Black Lives Matter_ t-shirt, and he looks remarkably comfortable up there. Alex can only catch some of what he’s saying, but he grasps that J is discussing redlining and its impact on post-secondary students in North America. He’s an activist, then. Alex stares shamelessly, still frozen in surprise, his mouth hanging open a little bit. 

J finishes speaking and is granted a smattering of applause. Alex wishes he’d listened to the whole speech. A girl with bold red lips and a shaved head strides onto the stage as John walks off, high-fiving him as he passes her and hurries down the stairs. 

“Thanks again to one of our own members of the Student Justice Center, John Laurens, for speaking about an issue that affects students today…” Alex doesn’t listen to whatever else she says, and he still doesn’t move. _J is for John. John Laurens._

It’s all too much. He wasn’t expecting this. He could walk right up and introduce himself, and on a normal day he _would_ , but Alex’s mouth is dry and his mind is empty. This never happens. He never finds himself at a loss for words, but he can’t go talk to John like this. Not without a plan or some kind of preparation. Unnerved, he quickly pays his tab and practically runs out of the bar and into the empty street, heart and mind racing. 

 

The lock on his apartment gives him some trouble, but he gets home safely. Hercules’ bedroom door is closed when he enters the hall, so he doesn’t have to explain why he’s out of breath and shaking slightly. Alex barricades himself in his bedroom and begins to pace. _Why did I do that?_ The nervousness gives way to regret, and he decides to cope with it by cracking open several more cans of beer from his mini fridge and downing them faster than is probably ideal. 

Once the alcohol hits, he calms down a little. Drunk Alex is definitely more chill than sober Alex, which has saved him from a few bar fights over the years. He huddles under a pile of blankets on the living room couch, going over the night in his mind and kicking himself internally for _not making a move. Why?_

 **Alex:**  
> I cannot BELIEVE THIS  
> Liza. I fucked up  
**Eliza S:**  
> What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you safe?  
**Alex:**  
> THE ORGANIC OPORTUNITY I WAS wAITING FOR  
> saw J at the student pub!!1  
> He was RIGHT THERE  
> standing right there at the bar and I could have introduced myself  
> I dont know whats happening to me.  
> I bolted I couldnt do it  
> I THREW AWAY MY SHOT  
**Eliza S:**  
> D:  
**Alex:**  
> omg hes shorter than I am. I’m dead Eliza thats so CUTE  
> his name is John Laurens  
> what a pretty name  
> and I’ll neeeeever have a chance with him  
> im a lil drunk rn  
**Eliza S:**  
> That’s not like you. You jump at chances.  
> Don’t beat yourself up about it, though, I’m sure you’ll see him again. It’s okay :)  
> Are you at home? Are you okay?  
**Alex:**  
> *heartbreak emoji*  
> yea yea I’m here HERCULES MULLIGAN! Is here too, sleeping  
> fuxk. autocorrect  
**Eliza S:**  
> haha  
> It’ll look better in the morning  
> (unless you have a hangover) *beer emoji* *devil emoji*

Alex slumps back on the couch with a soft thump, sighing loudly. His last empty beer can tips over and hits the floor, rolling away. Oops. He hears Herc’s door open and the inside of his eyelids go red as his roommate switches a lamp on. 

“Alexander?” He flinches, then opens his eyes a crack and groans. Herc wanders over wearing an old t-shirt and flannel PJ pants with multicoloured sewing notions printed all over them. Alex is no longer in the mood to explain himself, so he nudges his phone in Herc’s direction with a socked toe and shrugs. His roommate raises an eyebrow and flops down on the couch next to him, sitting right on his feet. Alex closes his eyes again as Herc scrolls through the texts he’d sent to Eliza minutes before. 

“Better luck next time, I guess,” Herc murmurs, setting Alex’s phone down on the coffee table. 

“Herc, I know I’m being really dumb. Sorry,” Alex whispers, eyes still closed. He’s just so sad. Those extra beers were a bad idea. This crush is a bad idea. Herc shushes him. 

“Relax. I’m going to get you a glass of water and you’re going to go to bed, okay? Sleep it off.” He disappears into the kitchen, and Alex hauls himself off of the couch and into his own bed, under several blankets. He doesn’t hear Herc come in, but when he opens his eyes next his phone is plugged into its charger and drops of condensation are running down a tall glass of water on his bedside table. Alex clumsily chugs half of it and falls into a restless sleep. 

**Eliza Schuyler:**  
> Herc, Alex is okay with you, right?  
**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> He’s a little weepy  
> ...Glad you’re concerned though :)  
**Eliza Schuyler:**  
> He seems really upset.  
**Hercules Mulligan:**  
> He is. Little guy will figure it out eventually.  
> I hope. For all our sakes.  
**Eliza Schuyler:**  
> :)  
> Night Herc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Did you talk to [him]?”_  
>  _“So close. I'm just a few weeks away from a real.... audible connection.”_  
>  \- Alex Hamilton in this fic, probably (actually a quote from Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog)
> 
> Up next: a real audible connection! Again, thank you for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, you know John, right…”

“Yeah?” Alex isn’t paying full attention to Herc while he makes himself a box of instant mac n’ cheese for dinner. He’s not overly fond of the stuff, but it’s cheap and if he adds some hot sauce and frozen peas to the mix it feels a little more like a proper meal. “What about him?” Alex hasn’t been back to The Federalist since he spotted John in the wild a few days before, mainly just because he’s been busy with school, but he thinks he might actually be getting a grip on the situation. He’s slowly reining himself in. Herc pauses for a few seconds before he responds, squaring his shoulders. 

“Yeah, I might… actually have known him this whole time.” Alex’s train of thought halts in its tracks. A wave of confusion passes over him, followed abruptly by a torrent of anger as he comprehends exactly what that means. 

“HERCULES. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?”

“You were being so annoying that when I realized it was John Laurens you were lusting over, I decided to keep it to myself and see what happened without my intervention. Which clearly was an uneventful decision, because you haven’t even talked to the guy.” 

“Oh my god. This is a betrayal! What kind of friend _are you?_ ” Alex waves his wooden spoon threateningly in Herc’s direction, but he easily dodges the poorly-aimed blow. The asshole has the audacity to _smile_ , too.

“I’m a Slytherin, bro. Scheming is what we do. Anyway, I thought it was for the best.” Alex takes a deep breath and tries to keep his anger contained. He hates to take Aaron’s advice, but maybe this time he should try to talk less. Hercules is one of his closest friends, and really, Alex hasn’t exactly been at his best lately. Especially when it comes to a certain John Laurens. The urge to tell Herc exactly what he’s thinking in agonizing detail, profanity included, is strong. But. Maybe that won’t solve any of his problems. He presses a flat palm to his forehead, trying to process everything without doing something he’ll regret as soon as he calms down. 

“Okay! Watch me make a mature decision here, you colossal ass. I’m not going to speak to you for the next hour, because I need to work out some of my anger before I can deal with you again and I’ll probably feel bad about it later if I tell you everything I’m thinking right now, _even if you would deserve it, which you would_. Understood?” Herc nods. He almost looks proud, weirdly. Alex grabs the entire pot off the burner and stalks out. “Okay. I’ll be in my goddamn room with my goddamn macaroni and cheese.” 

True to his word, Alex reappears in Herc’s doorway after just over an hour. Herc hadn’t heard any screaming or banging, so he’s not sure how Alex has been dealing with this. Was he meditating? There’s a laughable thought. Alex lets out a deep sigh and brings his eyes up to meet Herc’s. He shrugs emphatically, tension still clear in his shoulders. _Whatever_ , his posture says. Hercules is honestly impressed with this turn of events. He’d half expected Alex to get into a physical fight with him - which he would definitely have won, but not without a struggle. The little guy is fast. 

“Did Lafayette invite you out with us tonight?” Alex nods. He’s not really over this yet, but he is trying to be civil. _This is practically character development_ , Alex thinks to himself. _Look at me, growing as a person. An unhappy person._

“Good. Laf mentioned to me that John will be there, so this is your chance to actually meet him. They live together - they’re roommates.”

“I’m _still angry at you.”_

“That’s fine. Lafayette hasn’t done anything to make you angry, though, don’t let him down…Look, I know this doesn’t make the situation any better, but I _would_ do it again.”

“Fuck off, Mulligan. Go sew some pants.” 

“I’ll have you know that I spent all morning sewing pants! Do not test me, I have hand cramps!” Hercules pauses and examines Alex’s face. His roommate is standing in the doorway, tension evident in every part of his body. He even looks a little paler than he’d been a few minutes ago. “Oh lord, I shouldn’t have warned you in advance. Just chill out, Alex. I can see the gears turning. He won’t give a shit about what you wear, or whatever you’re stressing out about right now, even if you agonize over it for the next three hours. _It will be fine._ Isn’t this the chance you’ve been waiting for?” Alex gulps and runs his fingers through his hair, tugging it out of its ponytail and combing through it with nervous hands. 

“Fine. Sure. Totally.” 

 

The thing about Lafayette is that he's painfully cool. He carries himself with the casual confidence of someone who knows exactly what he's doing - and yet, it's effortless. To Alex, who exists in a constant state of trying too hard, it's a mystery. Maybe it’s the French in him. He moves with a controlled strength that implies a threatening potential in his nature, but more often than not he uses his strength to do things like lift Alex off the ground in bear hugs. He’s genuinely warm and friendly, though he could clearly choose to be otherwise. 

He’s also kind of a secretive person. Alex gets the impression that he leads a full and vibrant life outside of their friendship, and yet he knows very little about it. Okay, his real name is Gilbert, and he does have his embarrassingly long French name working against him. Thankfully he isn’t perfect - no wonder he prefers to go by Lafayette. Gilbert is just _not a cool name._

Hercules and Laf have been friends for longer than he's known either of them, and they all go out together on a fairly regular basis, so Alex isn’t sure why he hasn’t run into John before. That’s about to change, though. Alex had totally panicked over his appearance despite Herc’s cautions against it, but he’d settled on one of his nicest tee-jeans-hoodie combinations and he was trying to stay calm. He and Herc wander into the bar, scanning the room until they spot Lafayette leaping out of his seat at a small table across the room and waving cheerily at them. John is sitting next to him, mostly shadowed by the dim lighting. 

“Chill, Alex. You’re gonna be fine,” Herc whispers to him as they stroll over. Alex doesn’t get a chance to respond, because once they get close enough Lafayette envelops them each in a tight hug before settling back on his stool. 

“Alex, have you met my roommate John?” Lafayette gestures towards him. John’s hair is pulled back into a little bun and he’s wearing a casual, patterned button-down. He looks great.

“Alexander Hamilton. Hi,” Alex says, extending a hand in greeting. John accepts it, and Alex notes that his grip is nice and firm. “I think I’ve seen you around.” His heart is pounding, but he’s managed to maintain his casual countenance. 

“You stop by The Federalist sometimes, right? I work there. It’s nice to properly meet you.” John’s smile is radiant. The group quickly launches into a conversation about the upcoming election, and Alex relaxes incrementally as he slips into his element. 

They drift from topic to topic, and Alex feels a deep sense of happiness that they’re all getting along, that he gets to spend time having fun with a group of friends. He suspects that he’ll never stop noticing the feeling of _not being alone_ , but that’s okay. He gets to fully enjoy nights like this. The night goes on as they order pitcher after pitcher, alternating between talking, drinking and sometimes dancing clumsily. Alex likes to meet new people when they go out, but tonight he’s satisfied to just enjoy the existing group dynamic. Everything is going better than expected. He’s having a good time. 

 

Alex, as a general rule, does not ever shut up. It’s something that his friends grow to love about him, after the initial shock. Herc and Lafayette have long since gotten used to it. When he drinks, though, that changes. Tipsy Alex is even more loud and belligerent than Sober Alex, but Drunk Alex is mysteriously tranquil, much to the surprise of everyone who’s ever met him at a party. 

“So. My roommate is very pretty, isn’t he?” Alex is just beginning to get introspective when Lafayette appears at their tiny table beside him, leering down at the top of his head. Herc and John have just left to get another round, and Alex has been guarding their table while Laf was out dancing. Alex offers him a pained expression, rubbing a hand across his eyes before reaching for his glass and chugging half of his beer. He does his best to shrug noncommittally. 

“I had no idea you and John were roommates,” Alex tells Lafayette. He’s aiming for casual but misses it by a mile or so. Judging by the way Laf smiles toothily, he knows exactly what Alex is thinking. 

“ _Oui,_ ” the Frenchman drawls. “For two years now. We don't live too far from you and Hercules, actually.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” And then, after a pause, “did Hercules tell you the whole sordid affair?”

“He didn’t, no, but you’re not exactly being subtle about it.” At Alex’s stricken expression, he tuts impatiently. “I don’t think John has noticed. Or if he has, he isn’t upset about it. Don’t worry, Alex. He is a nice person. You are getting along very well, I think.” Lafayette pours himself the last of the beer from their third pitcher and gently clinks his glass against Alex’s before taking a long swig. Alex is still silent, clearly fretting. Lafayette waits beside him, biding his time and bobbing his head gently to the bar’s music. He’ll speak eventually. 

“I’m… scared.” Lafayette raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Alex continues after a pregnant pause. “I don’t like to depend on other people for my happiness. Other people leave.” 

“And yet…” Lafayette mused. Alex shrugged.

“I’m not exactly praising my own judgement, here.” 

“Yes, I understand. He is _charmant_. You really think you're hiding the little hearts in your eyes when you look at him? Or the desire vibrating off of you when you're close to him? It's certainly obvious to me.” Lafayette smiles, but under his joking tone he’s speaking honestly. He’s more perceptive than he lets on. Behind his wide, eager smile he is usually observing everyone with laser-sharp focus. “But you haven’t said anything to him.” 

“Laf, we just met!” Lafayette lets his weighty silence serve as an answer. Before Alex gets a chance to properly respond, Herc and John reappear with two pitchers and two handfuls of tiny plastic shot glasses. 

“Time for tequila! We didn’t have enough hands to carry limes back with us, but I am confident we’ll get through it somehow.” Herc refills everyone’s glass as John distributes the shot glasses around the table. Alex watches as stray beams of strobe lighting from the dance floor flicker across his face. He’s so beautiful. The alcohol has loosened his gestures so that they’re a little more fluid, and his smile is more goofy than normal. 

Alex scoops up the salt shaker from the center of their table and licks his hand so the salt will stick to it - and accidentally makes eye contact with John as he sticks his tongue out. Not one to half-ass anything, Alex maintains the eye contact as he slowly licks a stripe up his skin, then grins as he shakes some salt onto it. He smiles innocently as he passes the shaker to John, who’s been smirking the whole time. He shakes his head as he does the same, pausing to lick his lips when he’s done. Alex is too tipsy to be embarrassed. He could probably die right now and be happy. Across from him, Herc snorts as he grabs the salt, clearly having watched the whole exchange. 

“Raise a glass - I mean, raise a shot - to the four of us. To freedom!” John cheers. They toast carefully so as not to spill any liquor and down the shots. Then the next round. Then some dancing, then a happy argument about which club music is the most overrated. At some indeterminable point later, he and John end up slumped in a booth beside each other, out of breath from their furious bouncing on the tiny dance floor. Alex sneaks a look at John out of the corner of his eye and appreciates how rosy his cheeks are. He still can't quite believe he's here.

“ _Alexandre_! Come dance with me!” Lafayette shouts over the pounding bass of the music, sticking his head around the corner of the booth. Alex shakes his head.  
“No thanks, I’m exhausted.” The Frenchman shrugs fluidly and shimmies into the crowd, pouf of hair still visible amongst the twisting bodies.

“He has the best hair,” John says absentmindedly. “The best.” Alex pulls back a little to look at John and his head spins at the sudden movement. He tries to lean against the back of the booth, but ends up falling over a little. John snorts with laughter as Alex props himself up on his elbows. Well, they’re both pretty far gone. 

“Totally. You have great hair too, though.” 

“Really? Thanks!” he replies with a goofy smile. Is John blushing? _Oh my god._ He’s slurring his words a little bit and his face is more flushed than it was before. 

“Laurens, I like you a lot,” Alex says quietly in the spur of the moment. 

“I know.” Alex looks up at him before pulling himself back up so he’s sitting upright once more. The warm buzzing feeling he’s been enjoying leaves immediately, replaced by a nervous chill in his gut. 

“You do?” He gulps audibly and reaches for what’s left of his beer. _Relax_ , he tries to remind himself. 

“Yeah. Me too. I’m glad we met.” Before Alex can spontaneously combust right there in the bar or plant a kiss right on John’s beautiful lips, Herc reappears. He’s sipping a bright green drink through a plastic straw and he convinces them to sing along to whatever song is playing over the speakers. The serious moment is broken, but Alex keeps running over John’s kind words in his mind as his singing gets less coherent. 

Just before last call, Lafayette collapses sideways into the booth where Alex has been sitting for the last little while. He’d been trying to stop the room from spinning and resting his sore feet, and he’s startled by his friend’s sudden appearance. Laf looks a little dazed and a lot exhausted. 

“Alex, I am so tired. _Je suis très fatigué_. I do not want to dance anymore. Let’s go home. Walk with me, you can sleep over. We have a lovely couch,” he offers, a touch of sleepy petulance in his voice. Alex tries very hard to focus on the words coming out of his mouth to make sure that they’re enunciated clearly. It takes longer than he’d like.

“Yeah, okay. I’m done here too. Have you seen Herc and John lately?”

“I will text them.” Laf whips out his phone and squints at it, pouting. “Never mind, you will text them. My phone is very dead.” Alex doesn’t have John’s phone number, but he fires off a text to Hercules informing him of their plans and asking if he’s okay with going home alone. Herc responds minutes later with a profanity-laden message about how he’s very happy to stay at the bar without them, and that if the night goes as planned he won’t be going home alone, thank you very much. He does agree to let John know, though. With that confirmation, Alex and Lafayette stumble out into the night to walk home together. Thankfully, Alex is too busy focusing on walking in a relatively straight line with Lafayette's arm draped over his shoulders to dwell on the fact that he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to John. The worry slips into the back of his mind and is forgotten as they walk along the quiet streets. As promised, Alex crashes on Laf’s couch. John hasn’t returned by the time he falls asleep.

He wakes up at four in the morning to get a drink of water, and is startled to see John lounged in one of the living room’s armchairs, fast asleep. His room likely isn’t far away, but that must have been too far for him, Alex guesses. His mouth is hanging open and it shouldn’t be cute, but it’s the most precious thing he’s has ever seen. John looks softer in sleep, his sharp edges dulled by alcohol and unconsciousness. His hair has mostly fallen out of its bun and hangs down to messily frame his face. His coat is piled on the floor beside the chair, and he’s only wearing one sock for some reason. 

Alex doesn’t want to stare at him for too long, so he returns to his couch. First, though, he grabs his second blanket and tiptoes over to John. He gently covers him and tucks the corners gently around his feet so he’ll sleep comfortably. The apartment is chilly. Alex retreats to his own couch and sleep takes him immediately, which is great, because he was prepared to obsess over this situation for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 0 to FRIENDS over the course of a single evening! What is pacing!?!?
> 
> I feel like a lot of people would sort Hercules Mulligan into Gryffindor, but this suited my story better and I couldn't miss the chance to toss in a Harry Potter reference. If you have strong feelings about that decision, feel free to let me know! 
> 
> Also, in case you couldn't tell, I'm kind of having the time of my life squeezing corny fic tropes into this story. No regrets.


	8. Chapter 8

Alex drifts into alertness the next morning with his face squashed awkwardly into the back of the couch. He pries himself upright with a groan and stretches experimentally - his stomach is churning unhappily and his head feels tender, but he really feels better than expected. There are thin rays of sunlight peeking through the closed curtains, so it’s definitely daytime. Maybe not morning. There’s a John-sized lump curled under the blanket on the chair he was sleeping in last night, but only a foot is actually visible from Alex’s view. 

So that definitely happened. 

Alex smells coffee and tiptoes into the kitchen, wrapping his hoodie more tightly around himself. It’s a little smaller than the one he and Herc share, but it’s better organized. Laf, seated at the table, is flipping through a newspaper and humming quietly. Alex waves sleepily and his friend looks up in surprise. 

“Good morning!” He’s ridiculously chipper for such an early hour… Alex fumbles in his pocket and checks his phone, which miraculously still has a charge. Nope, it isn’t early at all. Either way, Laf is definitely _not_ suffering any ill effects from the previous evening. To his delight, Alex notices a large French press full of coffee brewing on the counter next to a bag of ground coffee with The Federalist’s logo stamped on it. Lafayette hurries over to it as he slides into an empty chair. 

“You’re just in time, it should be done. Voici, _café pour nous_ ,” Lafayette proclaims, brandishing two mismatched mugs and placing one in front of Alex. It’s a garish souvenir from South Carolina featuring the state’s outline covered in local landmarks. “I am going to make us crêpes for breakfast as soon as John wakes up, so they will be hot and fresh. And I think bacon and eggs are also in order. You look hungry.” Lafayette is delicately sipping coffee from a small mug printed with the American flag. Alex inhales the coffee’s deep aroma. 

“I should spend more time at your place, you cook breakfast and you have the good stuff,” he exclaims into his cup, gulping down the painfully hot beverage. He feels instantly more alive as he’s warmed from the core. “I drink crappy instant coffee at home,” he offers by way of explanation. Lafayette’s eyes go wide in alarm and he shudders. 

“That is disgusting. Don’t mention it to John if you want to remain friends, he takes his coffee seriously.” 

“Don't tell me what?” John croaks, stumbling through the doorway with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape and collapsing at the table. “I vaguely remember you being here when I got in,” he points at Alex, squinting. “Whenever that was.” Lafayette snickers at how disheveled he is, and John really does look like he’s been through the wringer. His hair’s a mess and there are puffy bags under his eyes. Alex grins shyly.

“Hi. Didn’t make it to bed last night, I noticed.” There isn’t really a need to tease, since Alex himself evidently also did not make it to bed. Well, he made it to couch. Lafayette jumps up excitedly and begins to gather breakfast ingredients. He doesn’t make any effort to close the cupboards quietly and John and Alex both flinch with each muffled slam. John shrugs ruefully and as he tucks his hair behind his ear Alex notices a discoloured mark on his right cheekbone. 

“Is that a _bruise_ forming?”  


“Yeeeeeeah.”  


“What happened?!”  


“I sort of got kicked out of the bar sometime after last call.” Alex and Lafayette share a glance, eyebrows raised. “For getting in a fight.” Lafayette doesn’t seem surprised, and Alex gets the impression that he’s watching for Alex’s reaction. Are bar brawls just a regular weekend occurrence for John Laurens? 

“I may have confronted a douchebag who wouldn’t leave this one group of girls alone,” John continues. “He kept trying to buy them drinks and was sort of lowkey groping one of them. They seemed really upset about it and kept trying to leave, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept trying to dance with them. So I had a word with him.”

“Did you win?” Laf asks idly from in front of the stove, where he’s simultaneously watching a crepe cook and scrambling eggs. John lets out a snicker. 

“Uh.... I managed to distract him, I guess. He was taller than you and twice as wide, so I really didn’t stand too much of a chance. I landed a few good hits, he landed a few more. But he got kicked out too, and after that he left before I could properly finish what I started. Which believe me, I was going to do.” John’s expression turns stormy for a moment before he smiles again, still prodding at his cheek. “Two of the girls gave me their numbers, which is too bad for them because I am obviously never going to be interested. But by that point the asshole was nowhere to be found, so I just called them a cab and left. I ended up back here. But apparently no further.” 

“Mon ami, what have I told you about getting into fights without me? You need - how do you say it? _Backup_.” Laf leers darkly from his spot in front of the frying pan, and John snorts. 

“Your English is practically impeccable, Baguette, don’t pull that crap with me. Anyway, I made it home alive. But _very_ hungover, oh my god.” He grimaces. Alex is a little surprised to discover this facet of John’s personality, but he decides to just let it go. It’s not as if he doesn’t understand acting recklessly, after all. Angelica may have been right; he’s fallen for the made-up John Laurens in his head and now he gets to find out if Real Life John Laurens is as good as he’s imagined. Is the fighting thing a problem, even? No, just a surprise. Really, it’s only Alex’s cautious friends who rein him in from getting into fights more often, or he’d have more nights like John’s. It would be majorly hypocritical to judge the guy for it when he _totally understands_. He isn’t sure how to articulate any of that, or if he should, so he just smiles at John and tries to speak with his eyes. It probably isn’t working. 

“You know, the bruising is still pretty faint. There’s still a chance it won’t be bad,” Alex finally offers. John pokes gingerly at his face again and shrugs noncommittally. 

“I'm not too concerned, to be honest. It’ll just enhance my rugged good looks.” And he winks. Before Alex can say anything, Lafayette slides a steaming plate of food in front of John, who lets out a tiny moan at the sight before immediately digging in. Alex is spared having to stifle a reaction to that noise by the appearance of a plate for him as well, and he thanks Lafayette before digging in with gusto.

“This is amazing. Laf, you’re my new favourite person.” Lafayette sits down with his own plate and nods cordially. 

“Good.” They finish their meal in companionable silence, offering a few idle comments and sharing details about the night before but mostly just eating quietly. John disappears shortly after to shower, explaining that he has to work later that afternoon and complaining that he'll _die, literally die, you guys, if he has to go to work in this state_ , and leaves Alex and Lafayette in the kitchen. Alex wordlessly begins to tidy up their dishes, wanting to contribute somehow, and Laf joins him at the sink with a bottle of dish soap. They stand side by side - Lafayette washes, and Alex rinses, dries, and stacks everything on the counter. Lafayette is quiet for a moment, and then he begins to speak under his breath. 

“John used to always be thirsting for a fight. He’s taught himself some discipline more recently, though. I see fewer black eyes and bruised knuckles than I used to.” Laf scratches at his nose with one elegant finger. “You may have that in common.. You fight for what’s right, and so does he. He uses his fists more often than his words, though, and I think you’re the other way around.” 

Alex considers this, and just nods. Laf is right, at least as far as he can tell. University has allowed Alex to explore the power of his words, and he revels in that knowledge whenever he can. He likes to argue in person, in the school paper and on social media, and the more he fights with words the fewer physical fights he gets into. He’s passionate about convincing people and informing people. He doesn’t usually miss the physical aggression of settling altercations through violence, but had he been in John’s situation the night before he suspects he would have done much the same. 

“You’re very reserved this morning. Last night you were being more forward,” Lafayette startles him, interrupting his train of thought. Alex just stares at the table. He hasn’t had a chance to analyze his actions from the night before yet, and he’s not really sure he wants to. “This is wholly unlike you.” 

“ _I know. It's freaking me out_.” This whole situation is, really. He isn’t sure what to think. 

“You are not one for quiet admiration, Alex. Why now? Why are you stalling?” 

“There's something about him that…” Alex runs nervous fingers through his thick hair, mussing it out of habit, and wraps the dishcloth he’s holding tightly around his fingers. “...leaves me feeling helpless. I can’t figure out a way around it. Why him? I barely know him, but he’s amazing.” 

“I think you’re friends now,” Laf drawls. “You practically slept together. You can’t say you _barely know him_ anymore.” He actually pokes Alex in the arm to emphasize his point, one jab for each word. 

“ _Gilbert_ , do not - we did not-” Alex stutters out a retort. He swipes his fingers through the sink’s spray and flicks Lafayette in the face with the water droplets. Lafayette just lets out a laugh. 

“Little Alex, you are adorable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This was supposed to be TWICE AS LONG, but I've had the hardest time writing it lately (and I've had exams to study for) and I wanted to at least post something! So I've split the chapter up and will adjust the chapter count accordingly :)
> 
> Also! Credit where credit is due - Laf's "Little Alex" nickname was inspired by writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle's epic work Non-Stop, and it clearly stuck in my head.


	9. Chapter 9

John returns to the kitchen smelling vaguely like cinnamon and looking much more alive than he had earlier, and offers to take everyone for coffee before his shift starts. Laf declines, explaining that he wants to go for a run, and John and Alex both turn a little green at the thought of so much exertion after so much beer. They decide that they can both really use the additional caffeine, though, so they head out to give themselves some time to chat before John has to work. Lafayette hugs Alex tightly on his way out the door, winking at him and murmuring what may have been a muffled _here’s your chance_ into Alex’s hair, and waves them both a cheery goodbye. 

He lets John lead the way as they stroll along since he’s not familiar with this part of the neighbourhood. The sun is beating down on them and Alex feels a little better with every step. They’re just two more pedestrians in New York, enjoying the afternoon and each other’s company. John pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slides them on, grinning at Alex. If only this feeling would last.

“What a great day,” John sighs and tips his head back, staring up into the sky. His freckles are still visible on his bruised cheek. “It’s kind of a shame I have to spend it inside.” 

“I’m probably just gonna go home and waste it by taking the world’s longest nap,” Alex admits with a shrug. “It’s glorious out here, but I’m still kind of exhausted. You like your job, don’t you?” 

“I really do.” John’s smile becomes a little more contemplative. Alex can’t really stop staring at him. “First of all, as you may have noticed, I’m pretty excellent at my job. And most of my coworkers are really great, so we usually have a good time. And people _want_ coffee - I get to fulfill a need. I like making myself useful.” They turn another unfamiliar corner, and all of a sudden The Federalist’s red sign is beckoning them from just a few feet away on a street Alex actually remembers.

“Well,” Alex says, “let’s go fulfill our needs, then.” 

 

John insists on treating him to a latte, citing an employee discount and refusing to acknowledge Alex’s protest. A severe-looking guy John calls Nate takes their orders with a knowing smile. He and John banter about how the day has been going while Alex taps his toes along with the cheerful music floating from the speakers. Nate taps his own cheek and cocks his head at John, who shakes his head and waves away his concern. Alex suspects Nate lets it go because he’ll get to ask properly once Jon’s shift starts, but who knows? 

“Enjoy, boys,” Nate calls as he hands over two paper cups. Alex surreptitiously checks, but there is nothing drawn on them. They find a pair of armchairs by the big bay window and settle in across from each other. John is within arm’s reach, and Alex hopes he doesn't reek like a bar. He'd freshened up quickly at the apartment, had gargled some toothpaste and borrowed some of Laf’s cologne just to combat any possible stench. His hair is pulled back into a hasty ponytail, and he’s pretty sure he looks almost as presentable as usual. His face isn’t all banged up, at least. 

Although, even with a bruised face John is radiant. He crosses one leg casually over the other and leans back in his chair, and a reflected sunbeam from a passing bus flickers across his face. Alex is allowed to stare now that they’re talking to each other here on purpose, right? He clears his throat and wraps both hands around the paper cup to warm himself up. 

“So,” they both say in unison, and laugh. Just like that the tension is broken. They begin to take turns sharing stories and little details about themselves, and he feels comfortable almost immediately. 

 

As it turns out, Real Life John Laurens is as good as he’s imagined. Alex considers himself lucky that this crush hasn't been wasted on someone who doesn't live up to his expectations. He's kind of awestruck, actually, sitting here with his new friend.

He learns that John is very involved in activism on campus, around the city, and online. He isn’t a skilled wordsmith like Alex is, but he is clear enough to get his points across and is comfortable sharing his ideas in front of a crowd, as Alex remembers from spotting him that night at the pub. He is polite but firm, and there’s something convincing about the cadence and clarity of his voice that makes people listen to what he has to say. He’s clearly very passionate. Alex loses himself in John’s stories, uncharacteristically silent as he tries to absorb everything John is telling him. 

“What are you thinking about? You’ve been weirdly quiet for the last few minutes. I hope I’m not boring you.” There’s warmth radiating through John’s voice and Alex just wants to curl up in it. He’s kind of amazing. 

“You've… got this figured out.” Alex gestures at John, at the scene around them and trying to convey meaning through a wave of his hand. He’s talking about more than just the cafe. “All of it, looks like. All this.” John laughs and it's such a nice sound that Alex subconsciously edges a little closer to him, scooching forwards in his chair. 

“I guess I just know who I am,” John replies softly. The tips of his ears are turning pink with the continued attention, but his voice doesn't waver. “Okay, time to overshare. I had a really shitty childhood in in a lot of ways, and I struggled a lot with self acceptance growing up. My race, my sexuality, for years were things I was ashamed of. And my self esteem was, like, zero at that point. But now that I can live with myself and be comfortable with who I am, I feel so relieved. For real, not hating yourself is a great feeling. I know that’s obvious. But it gave me a chance to realize the kind of person I wanted to be and become that person. I would love to help other people achieve the same thing. And maybe I'm not going anywhere special in life - like, I don't really have a career plan yet - but if I can empower people, and help them along that same path, I think that would be enough.” 

“You’re amazing,” Alex blurts out immediately. He’s still trying to process everything he’s learning about John, but that sums it up. “Really.” John actually blushes this time and he looks down at the floor, grinning shyly and scuffing the toes of his white Converse sneakers against each other. 

“I get the impression that you tend to think much bigger than that, though.” John’s deflection doesn’t escape Alex’s notice, but he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable so he goes along with the change of topic. It’s not an insult, he can tell, so he tries not to respond defensively. 

“You're... not wrong. I do think big, consequences be damned. Too big, a lot of people would say. A lot of people do say that about me, actually. I am going to leave my mark on the world, especially since no one would have expected a kid like me to amount to anything. But I'm still figuring out how exactly to go about doing that. Just you wait and see… I’m going to figure it out.” 

 

Alex remembers Eliza’s encouraging text messages, Herc’s incredulous teasing and Lafayette’s whispered encouragement. He thinks about how frustrated he is with his own inaction. This is his chance to make a real move, now that they actually know each other. John’s eyes meet his, and Alex rallies his confidence and finally seizes the opportunity and - 

“John. Would you-” John’s eyes flicker idly to the clock on the wall behind the counter, momentarily breaking their eye contact. He sits upright with a jolt, eyes wide. 

“ _Shit_! I totally lost track of time. I'm five minutes late and no one thought to shout at me. Okay, shit. I gotta go. Sorry Alex. Really!” he hops up and flashes Alex a dazzling and apologetic smile before rushing across the cafe and into the back room. Just like that, he’s missed his chance. Alex buries his head in his hands. _So close._

As a last-ditch effort, instead of leaving immediately he approaches Nate at the counter. He raises his eyebrows at Alex, not looking especially excited to see him. Alex slaps on the most charming smile he can manage under the circumstances. 

“Hey, Nate? Could I borrow a pen?” Nate obliges silently and reluctantly. Alex pulls a napkin out of his pocket and scrawls his name, number and a smiley face onto it. He slides it back across the counter, rocking forward on the balls of his feet. “Listen, could you give this to John once he gets out here? I’ve gotta go, but we’re friends now and he doesn’t have my number yet, so in case he needs to get in touch... Not that you care, I mean, just in case you were wondering,” he adds hastily, forcibly cutting himself off from rambling more. Nate just nods impassively. “Thanks, man. I really do appreciate it. Have a good one!” 

Alex’s phone has finally died, so he doesn’t have to force himself not to check his text messages every minute on the lonely walk home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Lohn Jaurens:**  
> Posting that pic from the wknd on insta. Does Alex have one? I’m tagging ppl  
**Hunkules Mulligan:**  
> LOLOLOLOL  
> No way. He doesn’t.  
**Lohn Jaurens:**  
> Sure. Just asking :|  
**Hunkules Mulligan:**  
> Suuuuuuure  
**Lohn Jaurens:**  
> ?  
**Hunkules Mulligan:**  
> ;)  
**Lohn Jaurens:**  
> *middle finger emoji*

 

 

“So, now that you and John Laurens are best buddies, are you going to tell him about your little social media tribute?” 

“Um. _No_. He doesn’t need to know. Ideally, he never finds out at all. I could delete it now, but I’m still kind of having fun with it. I don’t really think it’s a cause for concern.” 

Aaron may have a point that perhaps he should reconsider his digital Trash Shrine now that he and John are actual friends, but Alex hates to agree with Burr when he gets like this. He hates being condescended to and isn’t impressed with the way he’s acting like he knows everything. Alex admires him, he really does. Aaron is a very successful student and Alex plans to leave his mark on the academic world in a similar fashion (before going on to leave his mark on the _rest of the world_ in his own fashion), but that doesn’t mean that Aaron knows everything and gets to talk down to him. No way. Anyway, Alex has never actually managed to get Aaron to admit his age, but he’s pretty certain that he’s younger than Alex by a year or so... which makes Burr’s paternal advice even harder to swallow without complaint. 

“Alexander, when was the last time you successfully maintained a lie?” Aaron’s voice is smooth, but Alex is pretty sure he’s trying to get a rise out of him. _Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint him,_ Alex thinks testily to himself. 

“I don’t know, Burr. I don’t get much practice with lying. After all, not all of us can be as skillfully dishonest as you.” It's not his best insult, but the calculated dig is clearly effective. Aaron’s face turns dark and angry before he steels his expression into tense neutrality. It’s quite impressive to watch, really. Aaron is such a weird guy. He must be constantly on edge. It must be exhausting, but then again, his behaviour doesn’t exactly warrant much sympathy. 

“I resent that,” Aaron bites out, and Alex shrugs casually. 

“I’m sure your girlfriend appreciates it.” 

 

“So we're kind of in that tenuous place between ‘ _friends_ ’ and ‘ _finding out that I've been crushing on him for over a month, before we properly met_ ’. And usually I would go for it, because I am a decisive person but also because _have you met him_ , he’s amazing... but we're friends now! What if I ruin that by throwing myself at him? I mean, it seemed like a really great idea at the time, but when I missed my shot after such a great conversation it kind of seemed like a sign from the universe. Like maybe I should just not go for it.” He hears Eliza groan over the phone, and he can practically see her rolling her eyes at him even though he’s alone in his room, staring at the wall. 

“You’re being ridiculous again. I’m sure he’d be receptive to the idea, but even if he wasn’t, it’s not like you’d ruin everything by admitting a crush. You said it yourself that you two are friends now. This isn’t the Alex I know.” He groans and flops back onto his bed, eyes closed. He’d hoped that talking to Eliza might help him clarify his feelings on the matter, but all he feels is anxious and a little sad. 

“How many well-intentioned friends have to say that before this actually becomes expected behaviour for me and stops surprising people? Because I’m worried about that. I don’t _want_ to be like this. But. Back to your actual comment… I’m not sure if you’ll understand, Eliza, because you are a ray of sunshine personified and everyone you meet falls in love with you. But friendship is not something I take lightly. It probably doesn’t come as a surprise that I kind of scare a lot of people away with my, uh, _entire personality_ , so when someone actually wants to be my friend… that’s a hard thing to risk. And he’s a really good person.” 

“Oh, Alex…” Eliza trails off, not trying to hide the sympathy in her voice. Alex tries to ignore it, but he wishes she were here. He could really use a hug to make this bittersweet decision a little easier. 

“So my best option for now is just to wait, and be happy with what I have.” The words feel fake on his tongue, but he’s trapped. What is the alternative? Lose John completely? That’s unacceptable. 

 

Lafayette has been texting him on and off for the past couple of days after presumably hearing from John that they’d had a nice conversation at the cafe. Alex had meant to keep his error to himself, but he ended up confessing to Laf that he’d tried and failed to ask John out. He hadn’t felt like talking much, but the Frenchman must have surmised from his concise answers that he's unhappy about it. So he’s been sending Alex funny cat videos all afternoon, which really is helping to cheer him up a little bit. 

He and John have been texting as well, and Alex has pretended to be his normal, upbeat self in those conversations. They’ve just been sharing funny details about their daily lives - it’s nothing special, but Alex is taking every chance to evoke as many _LOL_ s or a laughing emojis as he can. He wants to be a positive presence in John’s life, and it really seems to be working. He is truly lucky to have friends like these, and now John counts among their numbers. He’s not about to risk that. 

 

 

The next afternoon, Hercules and John are hanging out on campus to pass some time before having to leave for class and work, respectively. They’re lounged together on a long bench in one of the less-crowded hallways, both idly playing with their phones and watching people walk past. It’s more about enjoying each other’s company than making actual conversation, really. Hercules has been trying to think of a way to mention the whole ‘ _Alex has a massive crush on you, will you please put him out of his misery?_ ’ thing for the better part of an hour. His class is drawing nearer and nearer and he still doesn’t have a solid plan, so he makes a snap decision. Honesty is supposed to be the best policy, after all. Maybe he'll give it a try. 

“Hey. Laurens. Have you seen this?” Herc shifts in his seat and leans over, iPhone in his outstretched hand. John picks it up and squints.  


“Are those cups from the Federalist? Wait, are these...”  


“Looks like it.”  


“ _Cutebaristadoodles_??” Herc nods. “These are mine. Am _I_ the cute barista?”  


“There are captions on some of them, too. You should check it out.”  


“My little coffee drawings have a secret admirer?” Herc shrugs, but his smirk grows wider as he watches John blush. “Oh my god? ...But most of these I’m pretty sure I drew for Alex. This... is Alex???” John scrolls down the profile and taps on one of the latest pictures, expanding it. He turns to show Herc, ignoring the larger man’s mutterings about how silly he sounds right now. The picture focuses on a coffee cup in the foreground of the shot. The cup has a quirky little rocket ship doodled on it in thick, decisive lines. Two hands clasp the cup below the drawing, and part of a face is visible in the background of the picture. It’s blurry and out of focus, but a pair of dark eyes are crinkled in what must have been a smile. “I remember that drawing, it was just a week or two before we met. This looks like him! I drew this for him! And he took a picture and put it on Instagram?”

“Yes.”

“How did you find this account?”

“You remember that we’re roommates, right. The guy doesn’t shut up. Of course I heard about it.” 

“So you’ve discussed me. Which means he’s _talked about me_. You told me Alex wasn’t on Instagram, Jercules. How long have you known?” 

“You told me you’d stop calling me stupid names, Laurens. Guess we can’t always get what we want, hmm?” John avoids his gaze, smirking a little. He still has a death grip on Herc’s phone as if the pictures will disappear if he relinquishes his hold on the physical proof. “I _may_ have known since the first day he came home and refused to shut up about the pretty boy at the coffee shop. I didn’t figure out that it was you until later, and honestly by that point it was probably too late to stop it, but I admit I may have egged him on a little bit with this social media crap.” 

Herc has pulled John out of a few tense situations before they turned violent, so he’s familiar with his ‘ _I’m going to fight you_ ’ face, and this isn’t it. John looks a little confused and a lot surprised, but not angry. He’s processing the situation. Thank god. It would probably kill Alex if he reacted with such emphatic negativity, but _this_ … looks like it could be promising. “I’m guessing you’re not mad about any of this,” Herc offers, trying to encourage John to share whatever’s going on inside his head. “Look, I can let him down easy if this situation makes you uncomfortable, he’ll bounce back eventually. I really do feel somewhat responsible for encouraging him, so I’d probably deserve it. Just say the word.” _Please do not say the word_ , he thinks pleadingly. _I do not know how to deal with a heartbroken Hamilton sharing my space and I don’t want to have to figure it out._

“Does he... like me? _Like_ like me? As in, romantic interest? Really?” John’s eyes light up at this realization, and Hercules has to admit that it’s fucking adorable. But John seems to be almost as bad as Alex is at this romance shit. How clueless can he be when Herc vividly remembers Alex maintaining eye contact while seductively licking salt off his hand? Complimenting each other as they stared each other down with their googly eyes? How much less subtle could Alex have been without outright propositioning him in the bar? Is it a lack of self-awareness? Is it low self esteem? Whatever it is - it’s unbelievable, really. They deserve each other. 

“Oh my god, Laurens. Would he make a fucking Instagram account dedicated to your stupid scribbles if he didn’t like you? Go ask him on a fucking date already, since he obviously hasn’t managed to do it yet. I swear, you two are going to be the death of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly bringing back the Trash Shrine! Also, I'm being really heavy handed with the italics but I'm pretty sure I can justify that decision based on how _ridiculously over the top_ A. Ham is about _everything_.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will wrap it up! I’m hoping to finish it within maybe four days (exams are happening). Thank you for your wonderful feedback!! I'm so glad people are enjoying this.


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, Alex is sitting in the library at his laptop, earbuds in, music muffling the soft noises of other students around him. He’s researching a paper for his international law class (and engaging in a heated debate with some idiot named Sam on Facebook in the comments of a New York Times article about taxation at the same time) when his phone buzzes with a notification. He’s too absorbed to look away from his work, but several minutes later he finally turns his eyes away from his laptop. A small gasp escapes before he remembers to clap a hand over his mouth, cognizant that he’s on a silent study floor. 

_Instagram: John @jlaurens has started following you._

“Oh, shiiiiiiit,” Alex whispers to himself. His mind begins to race. John knows about the account. And if he’s following the account, he must be looking through the posts, and reading the captions, and hadn’t Alex just updated the week before with a doodle of a toothy, wide-mouthed grin on the side of his latte and a few lines in the caption about how a certain smile had brightened his day? His secret is out. He slams his laptop shut, sweeps everything on the desk into his ratty backpack in record time, and is in an elevator heading to the main floor moments later without having explicit memory of actually walking there. The Facebook argument can wait, he’ll still crush the poor kid who incited his wrath. Once he’s out of the building, he calls the first person he can think of. 

“Eliza! Help. _John just followed the Instagram account_. Which means he’s reading the posts. Which means he _knows_. This whole thing has been a mistake, how could I have done this?”

“Whoa, Alex. Slow down.” Is Eliza laughing at him? Is no one but him taking this seriously? “Is this really a bad thing? To me, it sounds more like a second chance at telling him how you feel.” 

“What if I just ruined our friendship by being weird, though? I think that’s a definite risk here.”

“If it were me, I’d probably be flattered... after the initial surprise,” she says, and Alex feels a twinge of remorse for the way this situation is playing out. “Sure, you could have dealt with this better, but I don’t know if it’s a disaster. And I should probably add that if he can’t handle you being a little, um, out of the ordinary, there’s no chance of ever making this work.” Eliza certainly has a point. 

“I’m going to The Federalist now to talk to him. He usually works on Thursdays, so that’s probably my best bet. I want to explain myself, I’m _past waiting_. Stop me now if this is an awful idea.” 

“I should hope you’re past waiting now that he’s actually found out,” she responds dryly. He deserves that one. 

“I’m _not_ throwing away my shot. Not again.”

“Of course not. Good luck. Go get him, Hamilton!” 

“You’re the best, Schuyler. I’ll talk to you later if I don’t die of embarrassment before then.” He hangs up the phone to the sound of her laughter and presses on. 

 

 

When he arrives at the cafe some ten minutes later, breathing heavily and feeling sick with anxiety, Alex takes a moment to compose himself and fix his hair outside the window before pulling open the door and striding in. There’s no time for further deliberation. John looks up from behind the counter as the bell chimes his entry. He’s wearing a hairnet today. 

“Heyyyyy,” Alex trails off as he sidles up to the counter. Surprisingly, there’s no line at this time of day. John smiles hesitantly and pushes a steaming paper cup towards him. 

“Hey. Wasn’t sure if I should have expected you, but I thought you might stop by. Poured you a coffee just in case. on the house.” 

“Um-” _Oh god, he’s been waiting for me to show up._

“I’m actually just getting off for my fifteen-minute break. Want to talk?”

“Sure. Sure, let’s- talk. Thank you for the coffee.” Alex can’t believe he’s tongue tied, but his pulse is pounding in his ears and he feels like he might be dying. He doesn’t want to ruin any part of his shiny new friendship with John, but perhaps he should have considered that before he started writing stupid poetic captions and posting them online. He picks up the coffee with shaking hands, hoping he doesn’t spill it everywhere. That would really top off an already humiliating afternoon. 

John leads him to a small table in a corner of the cafe and sits down, pulling off his hairnet and stuffing it in the pocket of his apron. His beautiful curls are pulled back into a bun today. He wears it so well, he wears everything so well. Alex should have planned something to say. He is not often rendered speechless, but isn’t that just how his life seems to be going now? John continues to subvert his expectations, and while that’s part of his charm, it’s also _terrifying_. Alex’s heart is still racing. 

“So,” John smiles, flashing his teeth and looking as if he’s laughing at a private joke in his head, which, for all Alex knows, he _is_ laughing at him and his ridiculous crush, _oh no_ \- “Cutebaristadoodles? Really?” He could count John’s freckles from across the table if he wanted, they're sitting that close together. 

“Fuuuuuuuuck. Yeah. Uh. Maybe?” Whoops, that came out as a question. Alex isn’t sure how to best explain himself, doesn’t even know where to begin, and he’s struggling to maintain eye contact with John... who doesn’t seem to be mad, but his expression is unreadable and Alex just can’t take the pressure. He takes a swig of his black coffee and the painful heat and bitterness ground him a bit, helping him to focus. 

“Do you want to talk about this like adults? With words?” John asks, definitely trying not to smile, and Alex knows he deserves the teasing but he can’t help but be a little miffed that John is also _laughing at him_. At least he hasn’t stormed out, or thrown a punch. There’s still hope. Alex nods, trying to collect his thoughts. 

“I just… I couldn’t find a good time to, uh, come clean about that, and it honestly got away from me. Which in hindsight maybe wasn’t the greatest strategy.” Across from him, John narrows his eyes slightly, smirk still pulling slightly at the corners of his mouth. 

“You could have told me, Alexander. Aren’t we friends?” His tone is cajoling now, clearly noticing Alex’s distress with the situation. It’s charitable, really. But is he talking about Alex’s massive crush, or is he just talking about the Instagram thing? Either way, Alex guesses that he should be scrambling to explain himself… and to apologize. And to seize this opportunity, to make something of this painful situation. 

“Yes! Of course we’re friends. _Okay_. Let me be clear, like I guess I could have been this whole time. John, I really like you. And maybe I should have told you this sooner, but doing it now will have to suffice. I’d love to get to know you better. Would you like to go out with me sometime? On a date?” 

John smiles at him, eyes crinkling a little at the corners, _but he isn’t saying anything_. It’s not an immediate rejection, but Alex’s heart leaps into his throat anyway. After all this, is John going to turn him down? He’s not sure, and he takes another nervous sip of coffee just to give himself something to do. Alex glances at the cup in his hands as he reaches forward to set it back down, trying to make sure he doesn’t miss the edge of the small table and drop it in his preoccupied state. 

Then he does a double-take. There’s a simple heart drawn on the side, with _JL + AH_ scrawled within its borders. Slowly, Alex turns the cup so the drawing is facing John and cocks his head questioningly. John’s small smile bursts into a toothy grin, like a ray of sunshine illuminating Alex’s entire being from the inside out. “Wait. Is… this a yes?” He guesses, a matching smile growing hesitantly on his own lips. 

“Yes, Alex, I would love to go out with you.” 

“ _Really_?"

“Of course. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about you since we met that night at the bar. But I wasn’t really sure how you felt, and I wasn’t about to ask Herc or Laf for advice because they would have _destroyed_ me with teasing, so I just figured I wouldn’t mess with a good thing.” Alex beams. It feels too good to be true. John reaches out and takes his hand with the quiet confidence he wears so well, running his thumb gently back and forth across Alex’s knuckles. His skin is buzzing from the contact, but to be fair that could just be the caffeine in his system. 

“Herc showed me yesterday,” John continues, “No, no, don’t make that face, I’m honestly glad he did - and I spent all of last night going through the whole account. I almost liked a few really old pictures and nearly died, actually, because you’d find out that I knew too soon. And I had to work today, so I gave myself some more time to think about it before letting you find out.” 

“That meddling fucker,” Alex mutters under his breath, and John lets out a snort. “So, what conclusion did you come to? Because let me tell you, I am full of regret about that whole situation. It was Peggy Schuyler’s idea, actually, I don’t know if you know her, but she’s wily. I didn’t think social media was really my thing, but but I ended up getting carried away and it kind of got weird. I promise I didn’t mean to invade your privacy or anything, that was never my intention. I’m sorry. I can delete the entire thing if that would make you more comfortable.” 

"No, no, it was sweet. Really weird, for sure, but sweet… Okay, I was very surprised, but once I got over that I was just flattered. You wrote some really nice things about me, you know. And some compliments that I definitely didn’t deserve for some tiny doodles, but whatever. They were very nice.” He grins. 

“I didn’t even know your name,” Alex laments, and John fiddles with his name tag with his free hand and shrugs.

“Not your fault. It’s just weird and unnecessary when customers call go _‘thanks, John_.’ Throws me off, so I covered it up. Anyway, we’re not talking about me disliking nametags, we’re talking about this situation. I hope you don't figure out that the real me isn't actually interesting and get bored after our first date.” For the first time in their conversation, John falters a little bit. His fingers pause in their path back and forth across Alex’s hand, and he ducks his head down bashfully, biting his lower lip. It’s adorable. Alex could sit and talk to him for _hours_ without getting bored, and now he will actually have the chance. This is a literal dream come true. He smiles widely and squeezes John’s hand. 

“Not a chance, Laurens. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?” 

“I am.” 

They drift a little closer to each other, eyes locked, and Alex is _just about_ to close his eyes and swoop gently in for a perfect first kiss (why not, right?) when John’s face breaks into another wicked grin. 

“My fifteen minutes are up, I gotta get back to work. I have a great boss, but even he wouldn't tolerate me wasting time kissing pretty boys while I’m on the clock.” He releases Alex’s hand with a final brush of his fingers and stands up in one fluid motion, arching his back in a small stretch before winking back at Alex and walking away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Text me.” He disappears into the back room. 

 

Alex sits for a moment, trying to take in everything that has just happened. His hand is still warm where John was holding it, and he feels a small happiness settle somewhere in his chest, making everything a little brighter. On an impulse, he snaps a picture of the drawing on his empty cup and posts it to the account, leaving the caption blank. After a moment of deliberation, he tags _@jlaurens_ and captions the picture with “ _fin <3_”. There’s really no need to celebrated an unrequited crush once it’s reciprocated, right? 

John emerges from the back room just as Alex is leaving and takes his place at the front counter, hair net back in place. They exchange a smile and a small wave as Alex walks out of the cafe and heads back down the bustling city street, still basking in warmth and feeling happier than he can remember being for a long time. For now, his mind has stopped racing and he’s blissfully calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE'RE DONE! (thanks for your patience on this update, I had the best of intentions.)
> 
> Wow, thank you all so much for reading this story, and enjoying it, and leaving your kudos and comments! I’ve mentioned that this is my first time posting anything, and it’s been better received than I could have imagined. There was a lot of internal screaming at the fact that _real people! Are supporting this!?!?_ So really, thank you. It's been fun.


End file.
